


Scene of the Crime

by LilyRosePotter



Series: Comments Challenge Reward Ficlets [1]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M, criminal activity and shenanigans ensue, jon is a private investigator, tommy is a police detective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: "You're a good cop," Jon tells him. Tommy blinks.  "When you ignore the rules."





	Scene of the Crime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timjan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timjan/gifts).



> for the prompt "detective au + flirting under fire"

“Detective Vietor,” an all too familiar voice sing songs as Tommy is collecting bullet fragments from _his_ crime scene. 

“Isn’t organized crime a little above your pay grade Mr. Favreau?” Tommy straightens up and turns to face his least favorite private investigator. Jon, as always, looks unimpressed by Tommy’s glare. 

Jon blinks coquettishly and Tommy growls a little. “You know me, I go where the money is,” Jon laughs. 

The irritating part is that Tommy knows that that’s not true. Jon _does_ profit from his PI work of course and he’s a terrible flirt to get clients, but he’s also got a bleeding heart. Ninety percent of the cases he ends up invading involve “the sweetest person Tommy, really.” 

“Which idiot am I putting on desk duty today?” Tommy grumbles fruitlessly. The captain told him last week that he’s not allowed to put more beat cops on desk duty, no matter how many times they let Jon past the police barricade. Tommy’s sure that Jon bribed him somehow. Donuts maybe. 

Jon just winks at him. “So how many people do you think were involved tonight?” he asks, leaning closer, suddenly serious. 

Tommy frowns, “I don’t know. I was about to go further in and count bullets. Don’t follow me, this loft isn’t stable for civilians.” 

“I don’t see how structural integrity is related to one’s police rank,” Jon says conversationally as he, of course, follows Tommy in. “My client suspects their child got mixed up in the gang activity,” he adds, which is more disclosure than Tommy usually gets. 

“I don’t see how you ruining my crime scene is going to help- _watch that!_ ” Jon almost trips over a bloody knife. Tommy bends down to wrap it in an evidence bag and glares up at him. “Civilians. Crime Scenes. Bad.” 

Jon just shrugs, smiling his stupid charming gap-toothed grin. “Sorry.”

***

“Look I’m sorry but you don’t have any bodies,” the sergeant shrugs apologetically. “If you don’t find a new lead we have to pull manpower back to the drug task force.”

Tommy glares, “It’s been less than a week since an unidentified group of individuals had a shootout in the fucking North End and we’re just moving on because they managed to hide the bodies?” 

“You know resources are scarce Vietor, I’m sorry.” 

Tommy slams his fist against his desk as the door swings shut behind the sergeant. “Fuck!” 

He’s gotta- this is going to happen again. There’s some kind of gang war afoot and if he’s the only person in the Boston PD who gives a single shit about it… 

“Don’t you dare,” Tommy mutters to himself as the realization dawns. His hand moves to his phone anyway. “I’m going to get hit so hard by IA if this doesn’t work,” he mutters and dials. 

“Funny you should call,” Jon says immediately, like he has Tommy’s fucking work number memorized. “I was about to run down a lead for the shooting last night.” 

Tommy sighs, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but where should I meet you?”

***

Jon doesn’t even look twice before they approach the abandoned warehouse he tracked down based on fucking cell tower pings. 

“You know that this is like the least secure way to approach a potentially explosive situation,” Tommy mutters, walking behind him. “Not to mention we don’t have a fucking warrant.” 

“I don’t need a warrant,” Jon shrugs. “And look, the door is open to the public, no reasonable expectation of privacy.” 

Tommy studiously does not comment on Jon’s Fourth Amendment interpretation. “But what if it goes south, this is why we have protocols and why we don’t allow untrained detective work.” 

“Who says I’m untrained?” Jon raises an eyebrow. “Are you coming?” 

Of course Tommy is coming. He grumbles under his breath but follows Jon in the open garage door, relieved when Jon at least ducks behind a wall with some degree of secrecy. 

“What do you mean?” Tommy hisses. “Where were you trained?” 

Jon is… tight lipped about his personal details, Tommy realizes when he thinks about it. He has a website, unremarkable. A LinkedIn with some liberal arts degree that Tommy’s forgotten. He certainly never set foot inside the academy. 

Jon just smirks at him and leads the way deeper into the warehouse. 

It was bound to go to shit of course. 

They walk into the main room of the warehouse and see movement in an office. Before Tommy can approach or even draw his sidearm, a truck comes squealing in from the garage. Tommy spins to look at it and then his body hits the floor as the gunfire starts. 

“What the-” Tommy breathes, looking up at Jon, blanketing him to the ground. 

“You nearly got shot,” Jon hisses, eyes wild. “They don’t fucking teach police to drop when you see a gun?” 

“I didn’t see-” Tommy frowns, squirming a little under Jon for his phone. Jon doesn’t get up or roll off him, just looks quickly to make sure they’re hidden and stays where he is, pressed so close. 

Tommy raises his phone until he can squint at the screen. “I’ll- backup,” he whispers, sending a quick text and his location.

Jon nods a little. The guns are still going off as voices yell in at least two languages. Tommy prays for bodies and immediately hates himself for that wish. He’s so fucking messed up by this job. 

“FBI,” Jon whispers suddenly. 

“What?” 

"You asked what my training was, I was FBI.” Jon is too close to see his face, really, but it looks pained, remembering. “I was good too, but then my partner, uh, died in the field. The bureau wrote it off as an accident but it _wasn’t_.” Jon’s voice shakes a little.

Tommy stares at him and tries to remember words. Any words. 

Jon shrugs a little. "Anyway. I like working for myself." He peeks around the boxes shielding them carefully, frowning at whatever he sees. "But I guess backup has its perks"

Tommy sighs, "If they ever get here." He pats Jon’s side awkwardly, still hyperconscious of both their bodies. “I’m sorry.” 

"You're a good cop," Jon tells him. Tommy blinks. "When you ignore the rules."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "This is the most irresponsible thing I've ever done and we're about two minutes from being shot."

Jon smiles a little, “worth the risk though.” 

Tommy doesn’t know how to respond to that, with Jon’s eyes intent on his. Jon is- frustrating and fascinating and _gorgeous_ and… not a bad detective. 

Finally there’s a sound of sirens, deafening as the warehouse is surrounded. 

“I-” Tommy mumbles, “Yeah, worth it.” 

Jon beams down at him like they didn’t just almost die and then his face is getting closer and their lips are touching and Jon is _kissing him_ and Tommy is kissing him back. 

“Vietor!” Someone yells. Tommy groans and gently pushes Jon off of him, sitting up.

“Over here!” 

He loses track of Jon in the hustle of evidence and securing the warehouse and making sure that the four arrestees and three, _three_ , bodies are taken care of. 

Tommy’s about to slide into a squad car when there’s a pressure on his elbow. 

“Detective Vietor,” Jon winks at him, “call me sometime, no emergency lead required.” 

Then he’s gone, slipping out of the barricade as easily as he slips in. 

Tommy smiles a little. “I will.”


End file.
